


The Underappreciated Pairings Challenge

by chaineddove



Category: Hikaru no Go
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-05
Updated: 2012-03-05
Packaged: 2017-11-01 05:54:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/352761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaineddove/pseuds/chaineddove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of vignettes about those who deserve more love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ice cream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stillskies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillskies/gifts).



Saeki had recently gone up in dan again, and it really got on Waya’s nerves. Not that he minded Saeki, usually, but Shigeko had come into the middle of their practice session last week, tossed her hair, and dragged Saeki out to buy her ice cream to celebrate, leaving their game half-finished. Waya had blinked at the board a few times, scowled, and informed Sensei that he was going home, since Saeki couldn’t learn to take his studies seriously.

He trounced Saeki thoroughly in their next practice game — the older man seemed taken aback at his hostility. “Obviously,” Waya growled, “I should have moved up in dan, not you.” Saeki just laughed.

He met Shigeko outside the door, trying to suppress her giggles. “What?” he asked, because damned if he was going to act like he CARED, or anything, even if she did have this insane female way of looking at him lately that made him want to squirm.

“You know,” she told him, “you can take me out for ice cream any time. But you do have to take the effort of asking.”


	2. dance

“ _I am sorry, but I cannot dance._ ” This was, quite possibly, THE stupidest thing he had done. EVER. “ _Maybe you should ask the girl in the flowered dress_ —WHO THE HELL WROTE THIS STUPID TEXTBOOK!?” The offending Korean text bounced harmlessly off his bed and Yashiro sent a death glare in its general direction.

“You DID say you wanted to learn Korean,” Touya told him patiently from his desk chair. “I’ve found that book to be very helpful.”

Yashiro considered saying a few things that might get him punched. He held them back. Pissing off Touya was something he knew better than to do; he left that to the only person insane enough to get enjoyment out of it. “All I said,” he replied through gritted teeth, “is that next time that Korean bastard corners me in the hallway and manhandles me, I’d like to have some fucking idea what he’s SAYING.” He glared once more at the book. “I don’t think he was asking me to dance.”

Touya actually had the gall to look amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bonus, courtesey of the EXTREMELY talented stardance. Want to try wrapping your mouth around that "simple" sentence? I was curious. It comes out thus: "Mian haeyo. Choomchooji mot haeyo. Chuh gee gotcheuro duh p'eun wonpiseu (one piece) reul im neun yuh ja han te muro bwa haeyo." Otherwise known as this: 미안해요. 춤추지 못해요. 저기 꽃으로 덮은 원피스를 입는 여자한테 물어봐해요. __
> 
> Poor Yashiro.


	3. sarcasm

“Saeki-kun, do you want to have lunch?” Ashiwara asked, and he was already clinging to Saeki’s arm like a leech and literally SPARKLING up at him like some sort of demented Ramune commercial.

“I’ve been dreaming of it my whole life,” Saeki told him, rolling his eyes and clearly showing that NO, he had no desire WHATSOEVER to go anywhere with his semi-rival. “Listen, can’t you just-”

“Great!” Ashiwara said, grabbed him by the arm, and yanked him out of the lobby. Clearly, Ashiwara was immune to sarcasm.

“Man, do you ALWAYS ignore what people say?” Saeki asked, half a block later.

Ashiwara turned back and grinned at him. “Only when they don’t really mean it. I’ll treat you.”

Saeki sighed and gave in to the inevitable — the stupid sparkles, Ashiwara’s freakishly strong grip, Waya’s unavoidable amusement, Sensei’s anger, and everything. “Yeah, whatever.”


	4. telephone

What Le Ping seemed not to realize was that talking in their strange sort of sign language was one thing, but the telephone was something else again. After five solid minutes of incomprehensible Mandarin babble on the other end of the line, from which he gleaned only his own name and something to do with Go, Isumi finally sighed, said helplessly, “I don’t understand,” and hung up the phone.

When, two weeks later, Le Ping showed up on his doorstep, he could only stare. “I come Japan,” the boy announced proudly in garbled Japanese and brought his suitcase right into Isumi’s apartment, grinning all the while. “Study! Play! Win Isumi!” he plopped down on the floor next to the table and looked up expectantly. “Food?”

And he could only stand there, thinking how exasperatingly like Waya he was, sitting there, staring up at him and demanding to be fed. He was getting, Isumi noted, far too tall for comfort. At least he wasn’t inclined to strip this time. “Food,” he said. “Then a game. And back to your hotel. _Hotel,_ ” he added, remembering the word in Mandarin.

He pointed to the kichen, the Goban, the door. Le-Ping, with his ridiculous Waya grin, shook his head, pointing to the kitchen, the Goban, the floor. “No hotel. _Three days,_ ” he said, and held up three fingers. “ _I want to play with Isumi. I can’t stay here?_ ”

All Isumi could do was sigh and tell him, “I’ll take the floor. You can have the bed, since you called ahead. In a manner of speaking.” Le-Ping cheered and jumped at him, throwing his arms around Isumi’s waist, nearly toppling them both over, and babbling far too fast to be understood. “You really need to stop doing that,” Isumi told him, but of course he didn’t understand, especially when Isumi’s voice came out fond rather than annoyed.

“Oh, let go,” he said finally, and accompanied it with a shove. “I need to feed you.”


	5. pool

“I am not going on any Go club trips,” Mitani said, for about the hundredth time. “Seeing as I’m NOT IN THE GO CLUB.”

“You have to go,” Kaneko told him, hands on hips, looking menacing. It was really unfair that she was growing taller than him. “It’s going to be fun.”

“Maybe if you said that without looking like you want to kill me. It has nothing to do with Go, anyway. You guys just want an excuse to throw a pool party.”

“Fujisaki wants you to go.”

He shrugged. “I care?”

“Fujisaki’s going to be wearing a BIKINI.”

Well then. “…I suppose I could go. If you all really want me to.” He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. “What? You’re the one who’s practically FORCING me.”

“Boys,” she said derisively. “You’re all the same.”

“Shut up,” he said, blushing hotly, “or I won’t come.”

“Yes you will,” she told him, with all the conviction of a female twice her age. He threw a wad of paper at the back of her head as she walked away, and made a mental note to buy sunblock.


End file.
